Distraction: Part 3
Author’s Note: To the extremely helpful person who commented about Dominika. You’re actually right. I couldn’t decide if I wanted her in this fic so I left it vague. But a decision has been made! Dominika is officially NOT in the world of this fic. Just assume House was being an immature, pill-popping, hospital-sabotaging, attention seeking jerk after the breakup. But he did not marry a hooker this time around. I just . . . can’t.
Also, I leave for London and Poland tomorrow. Hope to write the fourth and final (I think) chapter in the airport and on the plane. If not…hello, 11 day fic hiatus. Pray for us all.- atd
“Wow, look at you!” Wilson said, beaming at Cuddy as she joined him in the cafeteria for lunch.
“It just kind of . . .happened. I went to bed barely looking pregnant and woke up looking like the octomom,” Cuddy cracked.
“You’re beautiful,” Wilson said, taking her in. “And. . .glowing.”
“A secret: Pregnant women aren’t actually glowing. We’re sweating. It’s hot carrying around another human.”
They grinned at each other. Then Wilson said: “I saw the crib that House built you.”
“Yeah, that was something else, wasn’t it?”
“He worked hard on it.”
“I know he did.”
“He’s working hard in general. Really trying to be a better man.”
Cuddy cocked an eyebrow.
“Your point?”
“No point. It’s just that he’s very happy for you, you know? I hope you realize how happy he is for you.”
Cuddy’s face fell.
“That little shit,” she said.
Wilson blanched.
“What?” he said, innocently.
“He told you, didn’t he?”
“Told me what?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
Wilson scratched his head.
“He didn’t tell me,” he finally admitted. “I figured it out. I mean, he turned his living room into a woodshop for a month. There was sawdust between the cushions of the couch!”
“I knew this was going to happen,” Cuddy said, putting her head in her hands. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
“No. Of course not. He swore me to secrecy.”
“Good.”
“He also told me that. . .he proposed to you.”
“An impulse. Not completely unlike driving a car through a house.”
“Now that’s just mean.”
“Look, I know he means well. But a trust has been broken between us. And I’m not sure we can ever get it back.”
“You’re going to have to try. For the sake of Sam.”
Cuddy snorted.
“House has no interest in being a father to Sam.”
“Of course he does.”
“He just sees it as another way to get back in my pants.”
“That’s horribly unfair.”
“Well I’m sorry if I’m disinclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“House had a complicated, troubled relationship with his own father, as you know. I think he would relish the chance to do it right.”
“We’ll see…” Cuddy said.
“Has there been any thaw between you two at all?”
“Well, I don’t reflexively duck and cover every time I see him now. So that’s progress I guess.”
“Cute, Cuddy.”
She sighed.
“Of course there’s been a thaw,” she said. “A part of me will always love House, even when I . . . hate him.” She gave a grim laugh.
“He made a mistake.”
“No. Getting off the wrong exit on the highway is a mistake. Forgetting to pick up milk on the way home is a mistake. Driving a car through a house where my daughter could’ve been is deliberate act of violence and revenge.”
“He loves you. . .”
“Well, he has a funny way of showing it,” Cuddy snapped. Then she collected herself. “Look, I don’t want to talk about House. He makes me tense and that’s bad for the baby.”
“Okay, but I have to ask. What are you going to do about Sam’s birth? House is going to want to be there.”
“He can’t,” Cuddy said, horrified.
“He can’t?”
“For a variety of reasons, including the fact that it will revive rumors that he’s the father. House can come see the baby when I’m receiving visitors, like everyone else.”
“He’s not going to like that,” Wilson said.
“I honestly don’t care,” Cuddy said. “This may sound selfish, but I’ve got to do what’s right for me and my baby right now. I know House wants to be there. Maybe even deserves to be there. But being around House is not good for my peace of mind.”
“So who’s driving you to the hospital if you go into labor at night?”
“My sister can. Or my mother, I guess.”
“I could do it,” Wilson offered. “I live 5 minutes away.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It works on two levels. I get to witness the blessed event and I can be House’s eyes and ears on the ground, as it were.”
“That’s actually…a really great idea,” Cuddy said.
“Then it’s settled,” Wilson said.
“And maybe you could be the one to break the news to House that I don’t want him there for the delivery?” she said, coaxingly.
“Do you have any full body armor I can borrow?”
“Maybe all the anger management classes will come in handy.”
“One can only hope.”
#####
In fact, House was surprisingly sanguine about the news, even relieved that at least he would have an ally in attendance.
“So you’ll give me updates by text?” he said.
“I’ll inform you of every contraction,” Wilson said.
“And photos? Not of her cervix or anything-although it’s a lovely cervix.”
“Ew.”
“But, I mean, like, pictures of the baby. The minute it’s born. Placenta, umbilical cord, the whole bit.”
“It’ll be like you were there.”
“Okay,” House said. Then he sighed. “It’s probably for the best. I’m not so great for Cuddy’s blood pressure these days.”
Wilson raised an eyebrow, impressed, but said nothing.
And then, two months later, at about 10:15 pm, Wilson got the phone call.
“My contractions are five minutes apart,” Cuddy said. “I think it’s go time.”
“I’ll be right over!” Wilson said, feeling his heart pound in his chest like it was his baby, not House’s.
“Don’t speed,” Cuddy said. “I’m fine.”
Of course he ignored her, speeding through town, running run lights. He met Cuddy at the curb, where she was standing with her bags packed, looking as calm and unperturbed as a business woman waiting for a taxi to the airport.
“Let’s go make a baby,” she said.
######
W: Congratulations Papa.
H: Holy shit. Look at that little bugger.
W: He’s a healthy, bouncing baby boy.
H: Thank fucking god. Weight?
W: 7 pounds, 4 ounces.
H: 10 fingers? 10 toes?
W: The complete set.
H: And Cuddy? How’d she do?
W: She was a champ.
H: No surprise there.
W: She’s holding the baby right now. They look like Madonna and child.
H: Don’t get carried away Wilson.
W: Seriously House. They’re incredible together.
H: Send me a picture.
W: Umm, let me check.
He looked up from his phone.
“House wants a picture of you and Sam. Is that okay?”
Cuddy nodded.
She tilted Sam so his face was toward the camera, then gave a tired, but sweet smile as Wilson took the picture. He sent it.
W: You still breathing?
H: I’m just. . . holy fuck. Look at that.
W: Yeah.
H: That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
W: I know it is, buddy. I know. Look, they’re kicking me out of the room. Cuddy needs her rest. You’ll get to meet him tomorrow.
H: Wilson?
W: Yes House?
H: I’m a dad.
W: I know you are, pal.
He put the phone in his pocket.
“Did he get the picture?” Cuddy said.
“Yup.”
“What did he say?”
“That it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.”
Cuddy nodded, smiled a bit, and wiped a stray tear from her cheek.
#####
The next day, there was a flurry of activity in Cuddy’s room as friends and colleagues came to visit the baby.
House, holding a stuffed hedgehog, was among them.
Cuddy wanted to let him get to the head of the line, but doing so would raise suspicions. As far as the hospital was concerned, she and House were barely talking. (Which, in fact, was not completely inaccurate.)
But she made eye contact with him and gave him a smile that said, “I wish we could be alone,” until it was his turn to shuffle up to her beside and meet his son.
“You want to hold him?” she said.
“Can I?”
“Of course.”
He held out his hands for the obligatory squirt of hand sanitizer.
She handed him the baby. He looked down at the little bundle, awed and abashed and grateful. He couldn’t stop staring.
“Hey, let somebody else hold him,” Chase cracked.
House looked up from his daze.
“Right, of course,” he said.
He handed Sam back to Cuddy. He didn’t want to leave the room. He wanted to stay there all day, basking in it all-the well-wishers, the balloons, the blissed out look on Cuddy’s face.
But he knew he couldn’t.
“Congratulations,” he said to Cuddy.
“Thank you,” she said, nodding meaningfully at him.
He left the room, limped down the hall, his head swimming with a strange mixture of elation and sorrow.
He passed two nurses gossiping at the front desk.
“I heard Dr. Wilson was there during the delivery,” one nurse said.
“You think he’s the…?” the other nurse replied.
The first nurse raised her eyebrows provocatively: “I’m just saying. I never bought that whole in vitro story…”
House gulped a bit and forced himself to keep walking.
#######
“When can I come over and see him?”
It was two weeks into Cuddy’s maternity leave. House had been patient, waiting for her to call him. She didn’t.
So he had finally taken matters into his own hands.
“Soon,” she said.
“How soon?”
“I told you, we could talk about visitation rights after you completed rehab.”
“I’m not talking about visitation, I’m talking about a visit.”
“I don’t know…We’re still getting acclimated here. Your presence might be disruptive. To Rachel, too.”
“Cuddy, I want to see my fucking son!”
In anger management they talked a lot about recognizing your own triggers-walking away from a situation before it escalated into anger. (When he wasn’t rolling his eyes at all the stupidity during class, he was actually absorbing some of the lessons.) Of course, Cuddy and Sam were like one big trigger to him at this point.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to yell.”
“No,” she said thoughtfully. “You’re right. It’s time. What are you doing right now?”
“Waiting for you to tell me it’s okay to come visit my son.”
“Then come visit your son.”
#####
She came to the door with Sam in her arms.
“Shhh” she said. “He just woke up from a nap.”
“Wow,” House said, peering in at him. “He’s doubled in size.”
“Yeah, babies have been known to do that,” Cuddy chuckled, but House was too busy staring at Sam to really hear her.
“I was just going to put him in the cradle-your cradle, actually-and make dinner. Wanna hold him instead?”
House nodded, and she handed Sam to him. He held the baby cautiously, shifting his arms, supporting Sam’s head awkwardly, looking as nervous and happy and smitten as any new father would.
“Hi little dude,” he whispered. “I’m your dad.”
“Let’s go with House,” she corrected. Then, seeing his hurt faced, she added: “For now at least.”
He nodded, then turned his attention back to Sam.
“Who’s a big boy?” he cooed. “Who’s the bravest, strongest, smartest boy of them all?”
She smiled at that, despite herself. “You going to be okay alone with him while I cook?”
“Go,” House said. “Shoo.”
He took the baby and sat down with him on the couch.
“He’s got an iron grip!” he yelled boastfully into the kitchen, as Sam clutched his finger. “He’s really going to come in handy when I can’t open a jar.”
She laughed, continued cooking.
Just then, hearing the familiar voice, Rachel came barreling out of her room.
“House!” she said, jumping up on the couch and hugging his neck. “It’s really you! Mama, House is here! House is here!”
“I know, sweetie,” Cuddy said.
“Hey shorty,” House said, feeling absurdly choked up.
“That’s my baby brother Sam!” Rachel said proudly, finally letting go of House’s neck.
“We’ve met,” House said.
“He’s sooooo cute!”
“Takes after big sis.”
She smiled, shyly, pleased with the compliment. Then she made a few vague cooing noises in Sam’s direction and instantly got bored.
“Come play with me!” she demanded, tugging at House’s pants leg.
“Rachel, let him visit with Sam,” Cuddy scolded from the kitchen.
“Tell ya what?” House said to Rachel. “Why don’t you go into your room and draw me a picture of a super hero. Then when you’re done, you can show it to me.”
Rachel immediately switched to negotiation mode:
“What kind of superhero?”
“A girl, obviously.”
“What else?”
“Wears a cape.”
“What else?”
“Has a shield.”
“What else?”
“Kicks butt.”
“What else?”
“I dunno, Rach. That’s up to you.”
She nodded, satisfied with her assignment.
“And wash up, too,” Cuddy said. “Dinner’s in 20 minutes.”
Cuddy watched House from the kitchen, remembering how good he had always been with Rachel.
“She missed you,” she said.
“I missed the hell out of her, too.”
She went back to chopping vegetables, pausing once to check on House. He was kissing Sam’s big toe.
“Rach! Dinner is ready!” she yelled.
Rachel came out of her room, proudly wielding the drawing. She put it on the coffee table in front of House.
“Are those lasers?” House said, peering at the drawing.
“Yup!” Rachel said.
“Good call.”
Cuddy came out of the kitchen and reached for Sam, who had fallen asleep in House’s arms.
“Thanks for coming over,” she said.
“Thanks for letting me come over,” he said.
“But House is staying for dinner, right?” Rachel said, confused. Then she turned to House: “We’re having rice and chicken and vegetables! But no mushrooms, because mushrooms are fungus and fungus is gross.”
House hesitated, looked over at Cuddy.
“House has other plans for dinner, sweetie. Maybe next time.”
House swallowed hard.
“Right,” he said. “Sorry. But I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Okay,” Rachel said, slumping her shoulders somewhat dejectedly.
“Can I take this?” House said, picking the drawing up off the coffee table.
“You really want it?”
“Totally.”
“Okay,” she said, with a grin. “Then you can have it.”
“Thanks, kid.”
######
After she put Rachel to sleep, Cuddy lay in bed, with Sam on her lap, reflecting on House’s visit.
Wilson had once asked if there was a thaw.
Tonight, it felt like all the ice had melted away and she was left with nothing but a puddle of goo.
It was almost uncanny seeing House interact with Sam-the most cynical man in the world nuzzling and cuddling his baby boy. But of course he would be that way. Underneath all those layers of snark and cynicism, she knew House to be a very sensitive guy. It was almost like he needed those extra layers of protective armor because he was so sensitive.
Even the way he had dealt with Rachel, making sure she didn’t feel neglected, asking if he could take home that ridiculous drawing-he didn’t want that drawing, but he knew that she would want him to want it.
Don’t do this, she scolded herself. Don’t get sucked back in.
Whenever feelings of warmth for House snuck up on her- when he built that beautiful cradle or demanded a picture that first night in the maternity ward or today, the way he acted with Sam and Rachel-she just had to remind herself: He’s an addict and an abuser. And he drove a fucking car through your house.
But she was finding it increasingly difficult to ward off the tender feelings for him. (More than that: Romantic feelings too. Because what was sexier, really, then seeing a new father fall in love with his son-your son?)
The key obviously, was to avoid him as much as possible.
To be continued…
Also, I leave for London and Poland tomorrow. Hope to write the fourth and final (I think) chapter in the airport and on the plane. If not…hello, 11 day fic hiatus. Pray for us all.- atd
“Wow, look at you!” Wilson said, beaming at Cuddy as she joined him in the cafeteria for lunch.
“It just kind of . . .happened. I went to bed barely looking pregnant and woke up looking like the octomom,” Cuddy cracked.
“You’re beautiful,” Wilson said, taking her in. “And. . .glowing.”
“A secret: Pregnant women aren’t actually glowing. We’re sweating. It’s hot carrying around another human.”
They grinned at each other. Then Wilson said: “I saw the crib that House built you.”
“Yeah, that was something else, wasn’t it?”
“He worked hard on it.”
“I know he did.”
“He’s working hard in general. Really trying to be a better man.”
Cuddy cocked an eyebrow.
“Your point?”
“No point. It’s just that he’s very happy for you, you know? I hope you realize how happy he is for you.”
Cuddy’s face fell.
“That little shit,” she said.
Wilson blanched.
“What?” he said, innocently.
“He told you, didn’t he?”
“Told me what?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
Wilson scratched his head.
“He didn’t tell me,” he finally admitted. “I figured it out. I mean, he turned his living room into a woodshop for a month. There was sawdust between the cushions of the couch!”
“I knew this was going to happen,” Cuddy said, putting her head in her hands. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
“No. Of course not. He swore me to secrecy.”
“Good.”
“He also told me that. . .he proposed to you.”
“An impulse. Not completely unlike driving a car through a house.”
“Now that’s just mean.”
“Look, I know he means well. But a trust has been broken between us. And I’m not sure we can ever get it back.”
“You’re going to have to try. For the sake of Sam.”
Cuddy snorted.
“House has no interest in being a father to Sam.”
“Of course he does.”
“He just sees it as another way to get back in my pants.”
“That’s horribly unfair.”
“Well I’m sorry if I’m disinclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“House had a complicated, troubled relationship with his own father, as you know. I think he would relish the chance to do it right.”
“We’ll see…” Cuddy said.
“Has there been any thaw between you two at all?”
“Well, I don’t reflexively duck and cover every time I see him now. So that’s progress I guess.”
“Cute, Cuddy.”
She sighed.
“Of course there’s been a thaw,” she said. “A part of me will always love House, even when I . . . hate him.” She gave a grim laugh.
“He made a mistake.”
“No. Getting off the wrong exit on the highway is a mistake. Forgetting to pick up milk on the way home is a mistake. Driving a car through a house where my daughter could’ve been is deliberate act of violence and revenge.”
“He loves you. . .”
“Well, he has a funny way of showing it,” Cuddy snapped. Then she collected herself. “Look, I don’t want to talk about House. He makes me tense and that’s bad for the baby.”
“Okay, but I have to ask. What are you going to do about Sam’s birth? House is going to want to be there.”
“He can’t,” Cuddy said, horrified.
“He can’t?”
“For a variety of reasons, including the fact that it will revive rumors that he’s the father. House can come see the baby when I’m receiving visitors, like everyone else.”
“He’s not going to like that,” Wilson said.
“I honestly don’t care,” Cuddy said. “This may sound selfish, but I’ve got to do what’s right for me and my baby right now. I know House wants to be there. Maybe even deserves to be there. But being around House is not good for my peace of mind.”
“So who’s driving you to the hospital if you go into labor at night?”
“My sister can. Or my mother, I guess.”
“I could do it,” Wilson offered. “I live 5 minutes away.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It works on two levels. I get to witness the blessed event and I can be House’s eyes and ears on the ground, as it were.”
“That’s actually…a really great idea,” Cuddy said.
“Then it’s settled,” Wilson said.
“And maybe you could be the one to break the news to House that I don’t want him there for the delivery?” she said, coaxingly.
“Do you have any full body armor I can borrow?”
“Maybe all the anger management classes will come in handy.”
“One can only hope.”
#####
In fact, House was surprisingly sanguine about the news, even relieved that at least he would have an ally in attendance.
“So you’ll give me updates by text?” he said.
“I’ll inform you of every contraction,” Wilson said.
“And photos? Not of her cervix or anything-although it’s a lovely cervix.”
“Ew.”
“But, I mean, like, pictures of the baby. The minute it’s born. Placenta, umbilical cord, the whole bit.”
“It’ll be like you were there.”
“Okay,” House said. Then he sighed. “It’s probably for the best. I’m not so great for Cuddy’s blood pressure these days.”
Wilson raised an eyebrow, impressed, but said nothing.
And then, two months later, at about 10:15 pm, Wilson got the phone call.
“My contractions are five minutes apart,” Cuddy said. “I think it’s go time.”
“I’ll be right over!” Wilson said, feeling his heart pound in his chest like it was his baby, not House’s.
“Don’t speed,” Cuddy said. “I’m fine.”
Of course he ignored her, speeding through town, running run lights. He met Cuddy at the curb, where she was standing with her bags packed, looking as calm and unperturbed as a business woman waiting for a taxi to the airport.
“Let’s go make a baby,” she said.
######
W: Congratulations Papa.
H: Holy shit. Look at that little bugger.
W: He’s a healthy, bouncing baby boy.
H: Thank fucking god. Weight?
W: 7 pounds, 4 ounces.
H: 10 fingers? 10 toes?
W: The complete set.
H: And Cuddy? How’d she do?
W: She was a champ.
H: No surprise there.
W: She’s holding the baby right now. They look like Madonna and child.
H: Don’t get carried away Wilson.
W: Seriously House. They’re incredible together.
H: Send me a picture.
W: Umm, let me check.
He looked up from his phone.
“House wants a picture of you and Sam. Is that okay?”
Cuddy nodded.
She tilted Sam so his face was toward the camera, then gave a tired, but sweet smile as Wilson took the picture. He sent it.
W: You still breathing?
H: I’m just. . . holy fuck. Look at that.
W: Yeah.
H: That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
W: I know it is, buddy. I know. Look, they’re kicking me out of the room. Cuddy needs her rest. You’ll get to meet him tomorrow.
H: Wilson?
W: Yes House?
H: I’m a dad.
W: I know you are, pal.
He put the phone in his pocket.
“Did he get the picture?” Cuddy said.
“Yup.”
“What did he say?”
“That it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.”
Cuddy nodded, smiled a bit, and wiped a stray tear from her cheek.
#####
The next day, there was a flurry of activity in Cuddy’s room as friends and colleagues came to visit the baby.
House, holding a stuffed hedgehog, was among them.
Cuddy wanted to let him get to the head of the line, but doing so would raise suspicions. As far as the hospital was concerned, she and House were barely talking. (Which, in fact, was not completely inaccurate.)
But she made eye contact with him and gave him a smile that said, “I wish we could be alone,” until it was his turn to shuffle up to her beside and meet his son.
“You want to hold him?” she said.
“Can I?”
“Of course.”
He held out his hands for the obligatory squirt of hand sanitizer.
She handed him the baby. He looked down at the little bundle, awed and abashed and grateful. He couldn’t stop staring.
“Hey, let somebody else hold him,” Chase cracked.
House looked up from his daze.
“Right, of course,” he said.
He handed Sam back to Cuddy. He didn’t want to leave the room. He wanted to stay there all day, basking in it all-the well-wishers, the balloons, the blissed out look on Cuddy’s face.
But he knew he couldn’t.
“Congratulations,” he said to Cuddy.
“Thank you,” she said, nodding meaningfully at him.
He left the room, limped down the hall, his head swimming with a strange mixture of elation and sorrow.
He passed two nurses gossiping at the front desk.
“I heard Dr. Wilson was there during the delivery,” one nurse said.
“You think he’s the…?” the other nurse replied.
The first nurse raised her eyebrows provocatively: “I’m just saying. I never bought that whole in vitro story…”
House gulped a bit and forced himself to keep walking.
#######
“When can I come over and see him?”
It was two weeks into Cuddy’s maternity leave. House had been patient, waiting for her to call him. She didn’t.
So he had finally taken matters into his own hands.
“Soon,” she said.
“How soon?”
“I told you, we could talk about visitation rights after you completed rehab.”
“I’m not talking about visitation, I’m talking about a visit.”
“I don’t know…We’re still getting acclimated here. Your presence might be disruptive. To Rachel, too.”
“Cuddy, I want to see my fucking son!”
In anger management they talked a lot about recognizing your own triggers-walking away from a situation before it escalated into anger. (When he wasn’t rolling his eyes at all the stupidity during class, he was actually absorbing some of the lessons.) Of course, Cuddy and Sam were like one big trigger to him at this point.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to yell.”
“No,” she said thoughtfully. “You’re right. It’s time. What are you doing right now?”
“Waiting for you to tell me it’s okay to come visit my son.”
“Then come visit your son.”
#####
She came to the door with Sam in her arms.
“Shhh” she said. “He just woke up from a nap.”
“Wow,” House said, peering in at him. “He’s doubled in size.”
“Yeah, babies have been known to do that,” Cuddy chuckled, but House was too busy staring at Sam to really hear her.
“I was just going to put him in the cradle-your cradle, actually-and make dinner. Wanna hold him instead?”
House nodded, and she handed Sam to him. He held the baby cautiously, shifting his arms, supporting Sam’s head awkwardly, looking as nervous and happy and smitten as any new father would.
“Hi little dude,” he whispered. “I’m your dad.”
“Let’s go with House,” she corrected. Then, seeing his hurt faced, she added: “For now at least.”
He nodded, then turned his attention back to Sam.
“Who’s a big boy?” he cooed. “Who’s the bravest, strongest, smartest boy of them all?”
She smiled at that, despite herself. “You going to be okay alone with him while I cook?”
“Go,” House said. “Shoo.”
He took the baby and sat down with him on the couch.
“He’s got an iron grip!” he yelled boastfully into the kitchen, as Sam clutched his finger. “He’s really going to come in handy when I can’t open a jar.”
She laughed, continued cooking.
Just then, hearing the familiar voice, Rachel came barreling out of her room.
“House!” she said, jumping up on the couch and hugging his neck. “It’s really you! Mama, House is here! House is here!”
“I know, sweetie,” Cuddy said.
“Hey shorty,” House said, feeling absurdly choked up.
“That’s my baby brother Sam!” Rachel said proudly, finally letting go of House’s neck.
“We’ve met,” House said.
“He’s sooooo cute!”
“Takes after big sis.”
She smiled, shyly, pleased with the compliment. Then she made a few vague cooing noises in Sam’s direction and instantly got bored.
“Come play with me!” she demanded, tugging at House’s pants leg.
“Rachel, let him visit with Sam,” Cuddy scolded from the kitchen.
“Tell ya what?” House said to Rachel. “Why don’t you go into your room and draw me a picture of a super hero. Then when you’re done, you can show it to me.”
Rachel immediately switched to negotiation mode:
“What kind of superhero?”
“A girl, obviously.”
“What else?”
“Wears a cape.”
“What else?”
“Has a shield.”
“What else?”
“Kicks butt.”
“What else?”
“I dunno, Rach. That’s up to you.”
She nodded, satisfied with her assignment.
“And wash up, too,” Cuddy said. “Dinner’s in 20 minutes.”
Cuddy watched House from the kitchen, remembering how good he had always been with Rachel.
“She missed you,” she said.
“I missed the hell out of her, too.”
She went back to chopping vegetables, pausing once to check on House. He was kissing Sam’s big toe.
“Rach! Dinner is ready!” she yelled.
Rachel came out of her room, proudly wielding the drawing. She put it on the coffee table in front of House.
“Are those lasers?” House said, peering at the drawing.
“Yup!” Rachel said.
“Good call.”
Cuddy came out of the kitchen and reached for Sam, who had fallen asleep in House’s arms.
“Thanks for coming over,” she said.
“Thanks for letting me come over,” he said.
“But House is staying for dinner, right?” Rachel said, confused. Then she turned to House: “We’re having rice and chicken and vegetables! But no mushrooms, because mushrooms are fungus and fungus is gross.”
House hesitated, looked over at Cuddy.
“House has other plans for dinner, sweetie. Maybe next time.”
House swallowed hard.
“Right,” he said. “Sorry. But I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Okay,” Rachel said, slumping her shoulders somewhat dejectedly.
“Can I take this?” House said, picking the drawing up off the coffee table.
“You really want it?”
“Totally.”
“Okay,” she said, with a grin. “Then you can have it.”
“Thanks, kid.”
######
After she put Rachel to sleep, Cuddy lay in bed, with Sam on her lap, reflecting on House’s visit.
Wilson had once asked if there was a thaw.
Tonight, it felt like all the ice had melted away and she was left with nothing but a puddle of goo.
It was almost uncanny seeing House interact with Sam-the most cynical man in the world nuzzling and cuddling his baby boy. But of course he would be that way. Underneath all those layers of snark and cynicism, she knew House to be a very sensitive guy. It was almost like he needed those extra layers of protective armor because he was so sensitive.
Even the way he had dealt with Rachel, making sure she didn’t feel neglected, asking if he could take home that ridiculous drawing-he didn’t want that drawing, but he knew that she would want him to want it.
Don’t do this, she scolded herself. Don’t get sucked back in.
Whenever feelings of warmth for House snuck up on her- when he built that beautiful cradle or demanded a picture that first night in the maternity ward or today, the way he acted with Sam and Rachel-she just had to remind herself: He’s an addict and an abuser. And he drove a fucking car through your house.
But she was finding it increasingly difficult to ward off the tender feelings for him. (More than that: Romantic feelings too. Because what was sexier, really, then seeing a new father fall in love with his son-your son?)
The key obviously, was to avoid him as much as possible.
To be continued…